


Meat Farming Will Make Anyone Go Crazy

by Vanui



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23356912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanui/pseuds/Vanui
Summary: Ilsa comes back to the Grandcypher after a week of helping the captain exterminate many, many primal beasts.
Relationships: Ilsa/Korwa (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Meat Farming Will Make Anyone Go Crazy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosenkrone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosenkrone/gifts).



> slight spoilers for spaghetti syndrome (like one line)
> 
> started writing this right after fire advantage guild wars and only managed to finish this now, if you're wondering where the inspiration is from

The trip back to the Grandcypher feels absurdly long in comparison to when they were leaving it, but Ilsa supposes that a week of camping out and fighting endless hordes of monsters and strange eagle-man primal beasts has taken its toll on her. As much as she feels dead on her feet, however, she has an image to uphold, which is why she marches forward without a break in stride. Slightly ahead Athena marches as well, unbothered by the weight of Clarisse on her back.

Zeta and Beatrix, on the other hand, don't even try to pretend that they're fine. With one arm slung over Zeta's shoulders, Beatrix is limping along and putting most of her body weight on the other girl. Zeta barely has them both upright as she stumbles forward, a nasty bruise adorning on her cheek.

"You can tell Zeta's holding all her scolding in for when we're safely back home," Djeeta speaks up suddenly from Ilsa's side. Ilsa turns to see an amused smile adorning their captain's lips.

"I myself have a few choice words I'd like to say, but I'm not here as their trainer nor their commanding officer," Ilsa replies with a wry smile of her own. "Not to mention that I let the enemies get the better of me a few times."

"It is kind of hard to avoid a blast of wind coming from all directions, so don't be too hard on yourself," Djeeta says kindly, gesturing to her messy hair. However, Ilsa notes that for as rough as this mission was, Djeeta doesn't seem particularly worse for wear. Impressively so, actually, given that her armor is hardly scratched, and the two swords hanging at her hips are still gleaming sharply.

In comparison, Ilsa is sporting some scratches here and there, and her cape is more shredded than she expected it to be. She pinches worriedly at the material and notices that her gloves are stained with grime as well.

"Oh, that's not good..." Catching Ilsa engaged in her inspection, Djeeta makes her own comment with her eyebrows scrunched together in concern.

"No, it's not," Ilsa sighs, letting go of her cape and looking away from the grime. To herself she quietly mutters, "Maybe I should stop somewhere for a change of clothes first."

"I'm pretty sure that's only going to make Korwa more upset. Imagine what she'd feel if the rest of us got back and you weren't there," Djeeta replies, startling Ilsa slightly. Well, she always did have a good sense of hearing, Ilsa mentally remarks.

Feeling her cheeks turn slightly red, Ilsa clears her throat a couple times and walks a little faster. "What does it matter to me if she gets upset?" she tries to say with a straight face.

Djeeta only laughs. "Right. Her feelings don't matter to you. Got it. I'll make sure to tell her that," she teases with a smug grin as she folds her arms behind her head. Ilsa's ears twitch as she struggles for an appropriate response, but she's not given much time before someone else speaks up from behind.

"Tell who what?" Lyria's innocent voice asks.

"You guys havin' a secret meetin' over here without us?" Vyrn joins in.

Ilsa gives a hard glare at their captain, the silent warning promising a swift death should Djeeta say anything to her faithful companions. Any word to those two would eventually spread to everyone on the ship within a day, and she would rather not have other people gossiping about her relationship (or lack thereof) with a certain seamstress on board. It would be especially troublesome if said seamstress caught wind of it.

Clearing her throat again, Ilsa speaks right as Djeeta opens her mouth. "We were just discussing what to tell Lowain to cook for dinner," she firmly informs them, cutting off Djeeta who only closes her mouth with another grin.

The subject of food is enough to distract Lyria and Vyrn at any point in time, and both of them pounce on the opportunity to enthusiastically discuss dinner. The conversation quickly shifts over toward steaks and ribs and other meaty meals, which is not an unexpected subject as the primal beasts they fought had dropped quite a bit of meat.

Djeeta fondly adds in her own opinion here and there, thoroughly entertained by her two companions like always, but she makes sure to shoot Ilsa a knowing look and a raised eyebrow that clearly says, "Good save, but don't think I've forgotten you're avoiding the subject."

Mercifully, though, the rest of the trip back to the Grandcypher is filled with discussion about having a nice feast once they return. Zeta and Beatrix eventually join in, and before long Athena and Clarisse are adding their own food-filled fantasies to the mix. Ilsa manages to lose herself in the lighthearted conversation too, and soon enough all thoughts of what awaits her on the airship fade from her mind.

In hindsight, letting her guard down was probably a very big mistake.

"Excuse me? Would somebody mind telling me who allowed you to walk around in public dressed like that?"

A shiver shoots down Ilsa's spine and almost sends her jumping into the air as a familiar voice seethes in barely contained rage upon her arrival to the Grandcypher. A panicked glance at Djeeta only reveals the smuggest grin Ilsa has ever seen on their captain's face, and Ilsa knows she's on her own for this. Facing down strange eagle-man primal beasts is nothing compared to the threat that stands behind her now.

"Ilsa!"

This time she actually jumps and reluctantly turns around to face a very irritated and heavily scowling Korwa. As she takes in the white ears pulled dangerously back and folded arms Korwa displays, somewhere in the back of her brain a very unhelpful voice provides that the seamstress is looking as beautiful as ever and impeccably dressed as always. The rage only adds an extremely attractive ferocity Korwa normally keeps hidden.

Still, Ilsa's a little embarrassed to be caught in such a state of disarray, and she manages to gruffly grunt out a, "It got a little more hectic than—" before Korwa grabs her by the wrist and drags her away. Stumbling after her, it takes everything in her tired body not to fall over as she hears Zeta and Beatrix laughing nearby, but she has no time to worry about them while she's being led below deck toward a familiar hallway. Oh well, she'll give them due punishment later.

Soon enough, they reach Korwa's room, and Korwa all but throws the door open and stomps her way over to an open area uncovered by fabric. Ilsa wisely keeps her mouth shut and lets the other woman lead her inside. Once they've cleared the entrance, the door clicks forebodingly shut behind them.

"Don't move," Korwa growls, and then her fingers fly toward the clasp of Ilsa's cape. The cloth falls to the floor in moments as she makes quick work of the chain, then she's tugging at the grime-covered gloves and yanking those off as well. 

Ilsa does her best to remember how to breathe while Korwa's deft fingers trail over her body. Her silence breaks though, once those fingers begin to take everything off—her top is peeled away, then boots, then pants. Left in nothing but undergarments, she croaks, "Um, what..."

Korwa shushes her, unflinching at the exposed state of the other woman. "Everything has to go. Absolutely all of it. No ifs, ands, or buts about it," she states with such finality that Ilsa can only swallow and concede with a stiff nod.

Suddenly, however, Korwa freezes as she kneels by Ilsa's bare midriff and slowly looks up at the other woman. As they lock gazes, Ilsa begins to wonder if the reason for the unexpected pause is the heat building in her own cheeks. She would not fault Korwa either—it wouldn't be the first time her embarrassment formed an awkward atmosphere.

"Um." Ilsa clears her throat once, then twice. "I... If you could lend me some spare clothes, I'll head to the showers and clean up. I'm sure I do not smell very pleasant at the moment—"

"Don't you wield guns?" Korwa blurts out unexpectedly, her cheeks turning a flaming red out of the blue. She's wide-eyed and looking every bit like she's been slapped in the cheeks.

Ilsa can only blink in confused silence, mouth still open from being interrupted. She's not sure if that was a trick question or not, but she's also not sure how to ask about it without insulting the seamstress. Her commander side always slips out in stressful situations, after all...

As if realizing the words that have left her mouth, Korwa scrambles backwards and waves her hands around in panic. "I, um, no, that was a stupid question. Your holsters are right there, and..." She trails off, hands freezing as she stares right at Ilsa's hips.

A couple seconds go by.

"...And?" Ilsa prompts, eyebrows scrunching.

Korwa covers flushed cheeks with her hands and mumbles incoherently into her palms. The action is cute enough to temporarily distract Ilsa from pursuing a response, and she takes the opportunity to savor the sight of Korwa's ears twitching adorably atop her head. It's almost enough to make her forget that she's nearly naked in front of the woman she harbors a ridiculous affection for.

Eventually, however, Korwa stops mumbling, but Ilsa realizes she's heard none of what the other woman was attempting to convey. "I'm sorry, what was that?" she asks, tilting her head forward.

The seamstress shakes her head, uncovering her face, stands up determinedly, and stalks over to a half-open wardrobe. Ilsa is so surprised that she stumbles back a step at the rapid movements.

After digging around inside, Korwa emerges with a robe, a set of casual wear, and undergarments. "Here," she thrusts them toward Ilsa. Her eyes are pointedly looking away now. "Use the robe to get to the shower room. The rest are clothes to change into. I'll have your clothes patched up by the time you get back."

Everything has happened so fast. Ilsa is still confused as to why Korwa's anger suddenly died, and now the woman won't meet her gaze. Nonetheless, she quickly accepts the pile of clothes and slips the robe on, grateful to shield her half-naked body from sight. "R-right. Thank you very much."

"P-please. Seeing your clothes like this hurts me more than it hurts you," Korwa attempts to say jokingly with a playful smile—which comes out as sort of a grimace—while she finally meets Ilsa's gaze once more. "Now shoo. Off with you."

Ilsa doesn't need to be told twice. After a nod, she quickly exits the room and breathes a sigh of relief in the hallway. She spends about half a minute working on breathing exercises and trying to forget the whole debacle that happened in Korwa's room.

It doesn't work. She keeps bouncing between feeling mortified at her exposed state and dazed at how adorable Korwa looked. Too much has happened in the last week already, and her exhaustion is starting to interfere with her thinking processes.

The icing on top of the cake comes in the form of a frustrated shout which pierces through the nearby door and startles her out of her thoughts.

"How does someone have such wonderful, chiseled abdominal muscles when they don't even swing a sword! Surely a rigorous training regimen isn't necessary for shooting a gun? Oh, but she's a soldier... Argh! She didn't have them when we were on the beach though! What happened! Not that I'm complaining! Who could ever complain about such a beautiful display? But I must know..."

The rest is muffled through the wood, but Ilsa has heard enough.

Trying to remember how to breathe and move her muscles, she forces her body forward and away from Korwa's room. One step at a time. What was she doing? Walking? Getting food? Oh, wait, she's wrapped in a robe and almost naked. Right. The shower. Shower room. Shower area. Is that left or right at the next hallway?

A few minutes later, when she runs into Zeta and Beatrix in the changing room next to the showers, she pointedly ignores their questioning of her beet red face and rushes to drown herself in cold water.

(The truth of the matter is, she started training with Silva to better hone her close quarter combat skills. Just in case she ever needed them on the battlefield. The past week of rigorous, continuous fighting also helped her toughen up quite a bit. She completely did not foresee this other benefit occurring off the battlefield... but it's a welcome benefit nonetheless. She'll have to keep up her training with Silva from now on, she tells herself—for purely combat purposes.)

(What she doesn't foresee is that, despite all her muscular training, Korwa is less than pleased by the ripped up state of her new wardrobe after the Society falls, but that is a story for another time.)


End file.
